


Samson

by colonellestrade



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Returning Home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 01:49:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2292458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colonellestrade/pseuds/colonellestrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh, we couldn't bring the columns down, yeah we couldn't destroy a single one, and history books forgot about us.<br/>And the bible didn't mention us, not even once.</p><p>You are my sweetest downfall, I loved you first"</p><p>Based off of Regina Spektor's song "Samson."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Samson

A crisp autumn breeze billows the fabric away from her open window and slivers of silver moon arc across the room. The only lights filling the space, beyond the natural glow are three digits - glaring across the room and counting down with each flash.

 

“How long until you leave?”

 

Rustling sheets break the cool silence and with a huff, Peeta gently falls back onto his pillow, glancing over at his longest dearest friend. “Three hours…” He says quietly, his eyes narrowing to focus on the outline beside him.

 

“Can’t you… tell them your sick?” She suggests, sitting up suddenly. Her movement is fast and childlike, her tone insistent and almost desperate. The over sized shirt she often wears to bed hangs off her small form, pooling over the curve of her thighs.

 

“I don’t think the army works that way, Kat…” He says, trying to lighten the mood as always with his million-watt-smile. He shifts a bit, reaching his arm back to rest his head on his bicep. Katniss’ eyes follow his hand, frowning suddenly at the unruly curls that fall across his forehead in soft waves. She reaches up, her lips curling.

 

“You’ll have to shave your head…” She says, frowning at the thought.

 

“It’ll grow back.” He offers, his cheeks tinting as she tucks a loose curl behind his ear, letting it loop around his right lobe. He stares at her, his eyes flickering over her own soft curls. The tight braid which usually drapes over her shoulder was pulled free hours ago. “Your hair…” He states, changing the topic to anything beyond tomorrow. “It’s got a bit of red in it, the way it looks in the cool light, warmer brown, there’s almost a hue of crimson…” He trails off, his cheeks tinting once again. “I’m sorry you don’t like it when I ramble…”

 

“I don’t mind it so much anymore.” She responds, fiddling with a small pin always adorned to her shirts. The aged golden bird spins between her fingers, nearly flying around as she fidgets with it. Her eyes glance up again, the corners of her mouth turning down as she looks up at his curls again.

 

Peeta frowns and reaches over to the side table, holding a pair of scissors. He sits up and pulls at one of his loose curls, cutting it off quickly before Katniss can protest. He sits up across from her, his hair now oddly sharp and uneven in one section, his eyes and smile bright as ever.

 

“Peeta…” Katniss scowls, his smile widening. “What are you thinking…?”

 

“It’s all going to be gone tomorrow anyway – cut the rest for me?” He asks, holding out the scissors for her.

 

“I’m no hairdresser…”

 

“Then I’ll look like an idiot for a day, no worries.” He says, jutting the scissors toward her once again. “Come on Katniss… I’d rather a friend start it all for me, than a person I hardly know.”

 

She sighs, her resolve always crumbling beneath Peeta’s gaze. “I’m just going to even it out, okay? I’m not going to style it or nothing…”

 

Peeta lets out an easy laugh and nods. “Of course.”

 

Katniss shifts closer, running her fingers through Peeta’s hair a few times, flushing as he lets out a warm breath against her chest. “You can’t hate me… when I mess it up.”

 

“I could never.” He says simply, resting his hand along her side – the warmth of his palm penetrating through the thin cotton of her shirt. She swallows and grips a piece of golden gloss hair then snips it. Biting her lip, she clips another and another and another after that. He sits quietly and watches the hair float down around them. Both remain silent as she continues to snip soft tuffs of hair from Peeta’s head, the only sound is the shift of clothes, quite breath, and the clip of the scissors.

 

“What do you think?” Katniss asks some time later. Setting down the scissors, she looks over Peeta. He no longer has a halo of curls surrounding his square jaw, or the soft brush of bangs against his forehead.

 

He looks up in the mirror hanging along Katniss’ wall, running his hand over the top of his now cropped hair. He smirks in amazement, his features sharper now and tight. In a matter of minutes, he’s lost the baby fat that always seemed to cling to his cheeks and the soft line of stubble along his chin no longer looks absurd.

 

“Well?” Katniss prompts again, nervous at his silence, he turns to her grinning.

 

“It’s a’right… just what I needed.” He assures, glancing once more and looking at the clock. “Katniss…” He begins and she nods, sitting patiently for the next words to leave his lips. “I don’t expect you to wait for me, mostly because well… we ain’t…” He pauses, Katniss’ eyes widening a bit, urging him to continue. “I don’t expect you to wait, but I still… I gotta do this before I leave…” He trails off, licking his chapped lips and suddenly she notices how plump his lower lip is, soft and full.

 

“What is it?” She asks, playing dumb completely unconvincingly.

 

Peeta smiles once more, gently pressing his palm along her jaw before drawing her closer.

 

They kiss soft and lazy until the glow of morning light spreads over them, replacing cool rays of moonlight with warm patches of sun. Peeta slips from the sheets, kissing her temple once more before descending out the window and to his house. Awaiting him is a fully packed duffle, an indignant mother, two older brothers who are waiting to haze him once more and a father who is too proud to cry.

 

So Peeta says his goodbyes to his family, getting onto the train with a gold bird tight in his hand, knowing that there’s a girl who brings fire into his belly waiting for him at home.

 

-      - - -

 

They don’t exchange letters, mostly because there isn’t much to say.

 

Any news that Peeta can share with her, Katniss can read in the news. Anything that’s happening at home seems to trivial to talk about, and with nothing coming back she doesn’t know where to send it.

 

Depending on his placement, Peeta could be anywhere in the rebellion; front lines or assisting in a medical tent as far away from battle as she is.

 

She only resents him for not writing her long enough to realize she can’t be angry with him at all. Especially when he’s looking up at her like always, grin wide across his worn face and his hands thick and strong as he pulls himself up the lattice to her window.

 

She sits back, her stomach bubbling with everything she wants to say. Prim had her first date, and Katniss has been competing in archery contests, she met someone named Gale who’s sweet and cynical and she missed Peeta so much she couldn’t sleep some nights.

 

“You’ve got freckles now…” Is what she chooses, her hand resting on his sharp jaw, brushing gently over his tan skin and trying to memorize the pattern of light speckles that fall across the bridge of his nose.

 

He smiles, lets out a soft laugh and pulls her close. He rests his chin on her shoulder, pressing his nose to the soft thumping pulse along her neck and holds her because it’s been too long and too hard without her, and he’s worried he’ll tell her how much he needs her.

 

-      - - -

 

“You redid the kitchen.” Peeta comments, walking back into the room, a piece of bread in his hand and a glass of water in the other. Katniss notices for the first time the slight limp in his gait and she frowns. Peeta climbs back into the bed, holding out the bread for her, which she declines with slight shake of her head. He lays back, staring a the ceiling and eating quietly, seeming calm.

 

“Peeta what happened out there…?” She asks finally.

 

He stiffens, setting down his glass and releasing a slow breath. “Do you really want to know?”

 

“Yes…”

 

“Nothing will ever be as awful.” He says simply, glancing at her. “We didn’t stand a chance, the capitol – they’ve got armies and weapons and machines that can tear a man in half –“ He winces at a memory, his hand rubbing his thigh, the fabric of his pants clinging oddly to his knee. “A group of kids, hellbent on changing the world don’t stand a chance against anything that big…”

 

“But you did, and you do…” She insists, sitting up. “You started a revolution Peeta – the rebellion is stronger now, we’ll win.” She says confidently. “You’re a hero.”

 

“A hero that no one will remember, that is just another nameless face for the history books to ignore – another dumb kid who got himself blown up.” He says finally, staring at his leg, his arms trembling.

 

“Peeta… let me see.” She says, her tone gentle and hesitant.

 

“You can’t, it’s disgusting.”

 

“Nothing worse that what I’ve seen in my kitchen, I’m sure…” She offers, recalling a particularly bad burn victim that her mother was tending to once.

 

“Please don’t be scared of me.” He asks, pulling up his pant leg, seeing the shine of metal up around his calf – past his sock – and stopping just past where his knee connects to his thigh.

 

“Oh Peeta…” She says, reaching over to gently touch the cool metal of his fake limb. “I would never… I can’t believe…” She keeps trying to say something, anything, but trails off each time. She frowns and looks at him, her face determined and strong. “I could never be scared of you.” She finally says, her voice steady, tilting her face and gently pressing a kiss to his lips.

 

Peeta sighs, shifting his weight against her, closing his eyes and letting visions of destruction and chaos fade out; filing his mind with visions of futures with the girl who brings him fire.

 


End file.
